


Cotton Balls

by misplacedgaleanthropy



Category: JUDGE EYES: 死神の遺言 | Judgment, 龍が如く | Ryuu ga Gotoku | Yakuza (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, No Spoilers, Other, Pet Names, Suggestive Themes, but nothing explicit, other characters will be added as I go, reader is gender-neutral, this is just nice fun times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-01-15 18:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21257444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misplacedgaleanthropy/pseuds/misplacedgaleanthropy
Summary: Assorted short stories proving that dating someone with close yakuza connections isn't all bad.Chapter 3: Sagawa's used to the insults, but sometimes he has to defend someone he cares about.





	1. Ryuji Goda

The sunlight streaming through the window eases you awake. You crack your eyes open and stretch your arms, yawning, ready for a lazy weekend morning. What should you do today? Maybe you'll make breakfast, dust off that waffle iron that's been sitting in the cupboards. Some TV sounds nice too; you could wrap yourself up in a big warm blanket and just relax in front of your favorite show. Yeah, that sounds wonderful. Lazily, you reach out and grab your phone.

The date reads Monday. You have work today. And you have about twenty minutes to shower, get dressed, eat, and leave.

"Crap!" you shout, tossing off the blankets. Ryuji grumbles next to you, apparently roused by your outburst.

"What's wrong, baby?" His voice is still heavy with sleep.

You're already sitting up, trying to prioritize so you can get everything done in time. "My alarm didn't go off, I overslept--"

There's a rustle behind you. Ryuji's giant arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back into his chest. His chin rests on your shoulder. "It's alright, it's alright," he purrs. "Work ain't goin' anywhere."

He's so warm -- Ryuji never did like sleeping with a shirt on -- and his sideburns tickle your cheek. For a moment, you do consider staying, melting back into him and spending the morning wrapped up in blankets, the two of you lazily kissing each other until your stomach growls and you get up for that homemade breakfast. But, you really do need to be on time for work. You have a reputation to uphold.

You squirm in Ryuji's arms, trying to get free, but it just makes him hold on tighter. He peppers kisses along your neck and cheek. 

"Ryuji, please." You fall still, resigned that you'll never get out of his grip unless he wants you to. "I should be in the shower already." 

"Maybe I should join ya." 

"Only if you're gonna scrub my back while I wash my hair so I can get out quicker."

"Oh, I'll scrub yer back alright." His voice drops low into that growl that he _knows_ you can't resist; you can outright feel it in your chest with how tight he's holding you.

"Come on, I'm gonna be late..." It comes out as more of a petulant whine. You're already wondering just why you were so worked up, what exactly you would have to lose by missing the start of the day by a few minutes.

"That's real tough, baby. They don't know what they're missin' out on."

You yelp as Ryuji pulls you backwards, your back hitting the bed with a soft thump; you barely have time to think before his mouth is on yours, kissing you gently. He's humming low, almost purring like a cat, the way he always does when he's especially worked up.

You end up calling in sick that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forget who it was but someone at BBB gave me this idea, and it's been rattling around in my head ever since; had to bring it to life somehow!


	2. Takayuki Yagami

"...So, yeah. That's about where things are at." You hand Yagami the bell toy your friend's cat responds to. "Will you take the case?"

"Of course, this is standard stuff." Yagami considers the bell, gives it a little ring, and sticks it in his pocket. "We'll have Milk-chan back to you and your friend as quickly as possible. Did you have any other questions for me?"

"Actually..." You turn to the one part of his office that's been in the back of your thoughts ever since you walked in. It wasn't the well-used couch that sank under your weight, or the shelves lined front to back with crane game prize plushies, but... "I was wondering about that pinball table."

"Huh? What, that old thing?" He glances over at the glowing cabinet. The picture on the back reads "Pinball Parlor." "Did... you want to play?"

"Can I? I don't want to impose or anything..."

"No, no, it's totally fine, I've just never had anyone ask is all." Before you can backpedal, Yagami gets up and hits the start button. The table comes to life, the lights bathing him in red-orange; a tinny brass instrumental starts to play. "Here, go for it. It's just been sitting here collecting dust for a while now."

You take your spot at the front of the table. It's true that it's dusty, but everything seems to be in working order; either he doesn't play it often, or he maintains it quite well.

You plunge your first ball and try your best to keep track of it as it bounces around the top of the field, lighting up the bumpers and sounding all sorts of bell rings and voice clips. You flip at it wildly and score a few points, but the ball rockets down the middle spectacularly fast.

Yagami chuckles. "Yeah, it's harder than it looks. Goes by pretty fast."

"Do you play it a lot?" You plunge the second ball and start batting it around.

"I used to. I got kind of tired of it after a while, and I've got pinball on my phone now, so... yeah."

"Were you any good?" Ball two goes down just as quickly as the first and you laugh to yourself, embarrassed.

"I mean, I guess. I got better at it when I started learning the rules. Like, you see how the bumpers spell 'PARLOR'?" He leans over to point at the glass. "If you hit all of them, that'll make one of them light up for the Parlor Prize. That's where the big points are."

"Wait, really?" You take another look over the table; it'd never really occurred to you to shoot for a specific goal. "So what about this one?" You point at a bumper that reads "SKILL SHOT."

"Oh, that's..."

Yagami starts patiently explaining the rules of the table to you. With each feature he walks through, you get curious about another that he points out or that's close by, and he seems more than happy to answer all your questions. He gets increasingly animated as you go, smiling more and leaning further over the table in big sweeping gestures. It makes you happy seeing him so excited, knowing you could brighten his day after giving him such a mundane case to solve.

"Alright, so what about this one?" you ask, pointing at a weird divot in the table with an arrow pointing to it that reads "BUMP FOR MULTIBALL."

"Oh, that one's really cool. It's not easy, but if you can get your ball to get stuck there, you can start multiball. You just have to shoot the next one right up through here..." Yagami slides right next to you, at the front of the table. His shoulder brushes yours. "Oh. Uh." He tenses up, and starts to back away. "Sorry."

Acting on impulse, you put your hand over his. "It's okay."

Yagami's eyes flick onto yours. You see him swallow. "Anyway, yeah, you just... shoot right up here..." He gestures towards the arrow on the play field. "Then you can... uh."

"Then... what?"

For a moment, Yagami just stands there, frozen. It almost looks comical, the way he's leaning over the table, until he abruptly stands up straight and takes a step back. "So, I know this probably isn't very professional, but when I'm done finding your friend's cat, do you... want to go get lunch? Coffee, maybe?"

You smile. "I think that sounds great."


	3. Tsukasa Sagawa

The atmosphere of this restaurant is the most charming yet. Dim lights accented by candles on every table, smooth jazz played by a live band, the smell of steaks more expensive than you could ever afford on your own filling the room... Sagawa sure knows how to pick them. Only the best for you, he always says.

The two of you are waiting for your orders to arrive, sipping expensive wine, chatting about your work and his cabaret club and what bars you're thinking of heading to after this and whatever else comes to mind, when you notice a broad-shouldered man with a scraggly goatee a couple tables over glaring at the two of you. He's with someone you assume to be his girlfriend, and as soon as he catches your eyes, he glances back at her and says something. You can't quite make out what it is, but he keeps looking back in your direction with a sneer twisting his face.

"What's got you so worried?" Sagawa asks, making you jump. 

"Huh? Oh, it's nothing. What were you saying?" 

"Oh, I dunno," Goatee says, suddenly talking plenty loud enough for you to hear him. "I think they know 'zactly what they're doin'. No one hangs off some yakuza's arm if it ain't for the money."

Sagawa is on his feet before you can say anything; your table shakes, silverware and glasses clattering. He strolls across the isle with a swagger in his step, arms loose at his sides. Goatee glares up at him. "You reek of booze, man," Sagawa says. "I know it's good stuff, but you're causing a scene."

"Me?!" Goatee rockets to his feet too. His girlfriend rolls her eyes. "Yer the ones causin' a fuckin' scene, flauntin' yer fuckin' money like ya ain't just playin' sugar daddy to some jerk-off in front 'a all these people tryna enjoy a god damn meal."

Sagawa's arm snaps out. He grabs Goatee by the collar of his cheap suit and pulls it tight enough to force a tight-throated noise out of the guy. The restaurant has fallen silent. Sagawa's voice is level, but you can see the tension in his shoulders. "You know," he says, "I'm having a pretty nice date tonight. Can't say I'm in the mood to put up with an alcoholic hothead with a shit-stain beard and a jealousy streak." 

"Who're you callin' jealous?" 

"Who wouldn't be?" Sagawa flashes you a wink and that sly grin of his. 

Goatee spits off to the side. "I ain't gonna be jealous of you draggin' some fuckin' prostitute out so you can butter 'em up and get a discount at the hotel, dumbfuck." 

"Oh, trust me, I get much better service than any prostitute could ever give me. Not like you have enough experience to tell the difference, yeah?"

"Fuck you!" Goatee yanks back and hurls a right hook. Someone in the restaurant screams. Sagawa catches his wrist mid-flight, inches from his face. He twists it back. There's a brutal creaking noise. Goatee stutters and curses, twisting his whole body to try and get away from the pain. Pushing down, Sagawa forces him back into his chair.

A member of staff runs up, ready to diffuse things. Sagawa waves them away; Goatee's rubbing his wrist and simmering like a boiled tomato, but he doesn't seem interested in fighting back. The waiter waffles about, until a glance at the pin on Sagawa's lapel gets him to fold without throwing anyone out. 

"Sorry about that," Sagawa chuckles, taking his seat again. 

"I should be thanking you," you say, watching Goatee's girlfriend lecture him in a hushed tone. 

Sagawa snorts. "Let me make it up to you, at least." He waves down that nervous waiter and orders a bottle of their finest gold champagne. You can always count on him to treat you right.


End file.
